Humboldt: México para los mexicanos

When you cherish a breathtaking sunset, the red, orange and yellow hues of sunlight making their last hurrahs for the day, you want that moment to last forever. The tranquility and majesty command silence as you gaze in awe at the beauty that envelops the senses. Sometimes, when I leave the theater, I feel a similar sense of awe and reverence. It’s a testament that when a playwright develops profound ideas, in combination with a thoughtful production, the audience will leave with emotions that unequivocally provoke deep reflection. In my opinion, theater has the power to be just as majestic as nature.

And that’s how I can somewhat describe how I felt after Saturday’s performance of Humboldt: México para los mexicanos. Here, the playwright (Ernesto Anaya Ottone), director (David Psalmon), and the six actors are all foreigners, living in Mexico. So, the title itself is catchy because this is a work produced not by traditional Mexicans. However, this irony is part of the main theme of the show. Alexander von Humboldt, one of the show’s characters, was the first foreigner to become a naturalized citizen of the United States of Mexico, decreed by the president himself, in 1827. However, Humboldt is also responsible for delivering maps of Mexico to the United States of America, maps that would eventually lead to the USA’s interest in this territory. In 1848, after Mexico’s defeat to the USA, a large territory of Mexico became part of the USA, thanks in part to the maps defining this territory. And Mexico has its’ first naturalized citizen to thank, in part, for this loss.

(A poster for the show, also the director)

There’s also the question of what it means to “be” Mexican. Each actor came to Mexico with a dream to be Mexican. However, to become Mexican one takes a very large quiz, about 100 questions (and this is just one aspect). The actors actually read every single question to this test to the audience. At first, the audience wanted to answer the questions, and then the actors began to read the questions more quickly. After ninety questions, and some pretty absurd ones as well, I think we all realized it was a pretty ridiculous test. One actor read to us #28, which asks about the identification of the person that originally combined the idea of the Aztecas with the Mixtecas. The answer according to the test was Huitzilopochtli, the God of War. But the actors showed us that Humboldt was the first to make that connection.  Also, as noted by the actors, if a person misses just one question on the test it is enough justification to deny citizenship to a foreigner. And that’s what happened to this particular actor who answered that it was a public myth. Answering these questions was overwhelming to the actors, and each one of them displayed their frustration with wanting to “be” Mexican but impeded by a series of questions. In fact, they felt as if Mexico didn’t want them. They came bright-eyed only to realize that, as they said in the play, “Mi casa es su casa” is only a façade.

According to the playwright, “being” Mexican is more defined by a transition from one place to another more than anything else. The playwright himself declares: “We want to break the myth that Mexico is only for Mexicans. In the very idea of Mexico the foreign is imprinted: the Aztecs were foreigners that arrived at Texcoco Lake, just like the Spaniards did. In both cases the encounter was violent. The association between foreigner/conquistador has been, more than just one episode in Mexico’s history, a constant. Through this work we hope to be able to repair this fracture by showing the human face of diversity, taking into account that the experience of being a foreigner is something that, in the end, we all do, because to feel far away is a universal experience.” And that’s something I can appreciate, being a foreigner right now in Mexico.

The play’s production was masterful. Many levels and areas of the stage, as well as the audience, were used throughout the production. It was a very interactive show and it helped us, especially myself, approach some of the feelings of the actors, who were also foreigners. To be quite honest, though, there was a lot of stimulation surrounding the technology, the voice-overs, the shouts, the movements, the smoke machine, and a plethora of other elements which combined to offer the audience too many images. But as Dr. Compton and I spoke about this element of the production we realized it imitated reality much more faithfully. So many aspects of a culture, of a nation, of family, of self, all combine to offer so many factors in any identity. We are left questioning just how one defines the self. Is it family? Is it a language? Is it a geographic location? These questions affect not only foreigners living in Mexico, but foreigners everywhere.

(The multimedia usage during the play)

This play affected me tremendously and, as I said earlier, on our walk home many thoughts were racing through my mind. I wanted to lose myself in these thoughts in order to make sense of what I just saw, due to the immense beauty of the spoken word that brought about these feelings. But that’s the splendor of irony, isn’t it? Sometimes you can’t quite put your finger on something as majestic as the sunset, or what defines us as people. Mexico for Mexicans? No. Mexico is for everyone, because everyone is a foreigner.

And as a final note, the director mentioned the 43 students from Ayotzinapa that are still missing, the fight for Wirikuta against privatized mining in their indigenous community, as well as other students missing in Michoacan. I want to take the space here to also remind my readers that Mexico will not rest until these missing students are found. I unite in solidarity with those asking for the return of these students. No one should ever be forgotten

.

("Wirikuta for the defense of the sacred. No to mining.")

(A piece of  activist art in Avenida Reforma calling attention to the 43 students still missing: "Because they were taken alive, we want them back alive!")

21 historias de baúl, La vida es sueño

Wow.

Just wow.

Yesterday Dr. Compton and I spent the afternoon and evening in Coyoacan as we attended a play, and a staged reading of a new play. Coyoacan is now a suburb of Mexico City where Hernán Cortés built his home and where there is an absolutely stunning Catholic church. It’s also an intellectual haven for students and professors as it is located just a few stops away on the Metro from the Ciudad Universitaria where the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (or UNAM) is located. What a beautiful city!

(Catholic Church in Coyoacan)

(Hernán Cortés's Home in Coyoacan)

In this entry I will review my experience with 21 historias de baúl (21 Stories from a Chest), as well as briefly discuss my experience with the staged reading of a new play. However, I won’t go much into detail about the actual play in the staged reading as much as discuss the experience of dramaturging. I felt honored to be able to offer suggestions and ask questions, like a New Play Dramaturg might. In fact, this experience rekindled my love for dramaturging and for new plays.

(Mirna) Amanda Farah directed 21 historias de baúl, and one of the best ways I can describe her skill level is by simply comparing her to Stephanie Foster Breinholt, a professor and director in the Theater Department at BYU. From my own experiences, every single play Stephanie directs is absolutely mind-blowing, fantastic and breathtaking, all in positive ways. When attention is paid to every little detail (the lights, facial expressions, movements, transitions, scenery, etc.) then the world of the play is that much more engaging. And let me just say here that this play was at that level. So, I would love to take my hat off to Amanda for offering such an exquisite experience.

(Poster for 21 historias de baúl)

And the actors. Oh! The actors! Each of the four actors played their roles with such delivery that you couldn’t help but be sucked into their unique worlds; and with this play, there were twenty-one different worlds! Llever Aíza played a crazy Don Quixote, an elephant, a traveling doctor, and various other roles with such facial expressions you couldn’t help but laugh! Joana Larequi was the only actress on stage, but on many occasions played different roles as a man. She produced long sighs as a skeleton waiting for the resurrection, acted very macho as she blew out a star, and emitted a deep sadness as she waited at the train with her son. One of the most stunning moments of the show was Emilio Savinni, who played a crazy person in the chest. His demonic laughs felt so real as he responded to the promptings of a skeptic doctor. I mean, scarily real. As the chest closed at the end he transitioned from laughing to whimpering in one of the most disturbingly awesome scenes of the night. Later in the show he came out as a camel, walking hand and foot in synchrony as he moved his mouth around just like a camel. They were stellar for the entire show, almost always on stage as they transitioned from one scene to the next.

The last actor, Pablo Marín, deserves special attention. While all the actors were simply amazing, Pablo also captivated our attention every single time he appeared on stage. His presence and mannerisms, such as stroking his skeletal body in deep melancholy as he sat in the cemetery, his caricature movements as Rita, his narrating qualities at the death of a whale, and his deathly facial expressions as he swayed back-and-forth in the train, were demonstrations of his love for acting as well as his development as a skilled actor. Dr. Compton saw him previously in Si no lo cuentas tú, ¿quién lo sabra? (If you don’t tell it, who will know?), a show dealing with themes of the Holocaust he considered to be the masterpiece of his trip in 2014. The complete production of this show is available on YouTube. In my experience Pablo Marín blew me away. Gone. In another world.

For anyone traveling to Mexico City, this show will continue to be performed at Teatro La Capilla every Friday at 5:00 PM until July 3rd.

(Teatro La Capilla Logo)

And if this show wasn’t enough, we spent the rest of the evening in a home listening to an interactive staged reading of a new play by Martín López Brie which revolved around Calderón de la Barca’s La vida es sueño (Life is a Dream). It felt great to be invited with Dr. Compton in the presence of a work still germinating. I won’t go into detail here about the plot. However, I will say that the work was stunning and the dialogue was fluid between the two actors. When the show ended, we both sat with colleagues who are playwrights, producers, directors, and other students of theater, to discuss our impressions, ask questions and suggest improvements. This interaction made me think of the saying: it takes one person to write a play and ninety-nine others to tell the playwright how to do it better. As I thought about this, I realized writing a play is much like writing articles in Academia: there are always others who will want minor improvements based on their own intellectual understandings. I find this process of collaboration one of the most intriguing and wonderful aspects of Academia and theater.

During this collaboration I approached my comments with a set of understanding eyes more than suggestions, having learned some great techniques about working with playwrights from BYU’s own Janine Sobeck, a professional dramaturg and professor who previously worked at the Arena Stage. So, when I offered comments I asked more questions rather than offering ways to improve the play. The fruitful discussions afterwards confirmed this was the right approach. The last thing I wanted to do was come off as a “know-it-all” who thinks he has all the right answers. There were such thoughtful comments and suggestions offered for the playwright that I know he will produce a stellar work, in part because the work itself was already well-written. Experiences like these confirm to me that Latin American Theater is a fruitful field to study. I can’t wait for more!

Exilios: obras breves

Last night Dr. Compton and I attended exilios: obras breves, a collection of four short plays dealing with the theme of exile. We took the subway system to the Auditorio Nacional, a venue which has many different theatres surrounding it, and from there to the Teatro Galeón. I want to point out that this particular trip is truly special because I am seeing Mexican theater with Dr. Tim Compton from Northern Michigan University. This is a real privilege because he is well known by many respected persons here and abroad as a trusted critic, although he himself argues the impossibility of being a true critic. But more on that later. I think you are more interested in the plays for now.

(Teatro Galeón)

Maybe a bit of background will help establish the framework for this production. In the summer of 2013 Sandra Félix, a Mexican director, produced these short plays together in El Foro La Gruta del Centro Cultural Helénico. We will meet with her later in this trip, so one of the big questions I have for her are what changes she made to each of the four works that were originally presented, as well as why she omitted two of the original six plays. At least we know that these plays were not produced for the first time, and that they most likely received criticism and were adjusted for this particular performance.

With this background in mind, I’d like to discuss briefly the plot, theme and other elements for the first two plays, and the last. The third play, for me and Dr. Compton, was problematic on many fronts. I recognize there is a lot to discuss, as Dr. Compton and I have been talking about them since we left, so please excuse the short space in which I will try to write down my thoughts on what took years to produce. My hope is that you might at least be familiar with some of the current themes in Mexican theatre today, as well as see some of my personal thoughts as I approach these plays.

Frontera (Border) written by Laila Ripoll

There is a version on YouTube of this work. The first thing you will notice is how dark the scene is. That’s because it is set in the desert at night. The version on YouTube has a grandmother and grandson, while the version last night switched the grandmother to a grandfather. However, the lines are the same. I want to ask Sandra Félix why they switched gender in this version. The great struggle here dealt with the grandson’s desire to cross the border into the United States of America while also battling guilt for abandoning his family and culture. This is a very prevalent struggle for many people throughout the world, not must Mexicans. In my own family my wife left her country to live with me, and I know from personal experiences that it is very difficult to leave behind family and culture. I get it, but I also don’t. I still live in my own country and it is difficult for me to come to terms with these feelings, but that doesn´t mean I don´t try to understand. I get it, but I don’t.

The grandfather in this scene was exiled from Spain during Franco’s regime, and now, filled with memories of his former country, he struggles to convince his grandson that leaving his country behind is a mistake with grave consequences. The story itself is compelling, but the delivery was a little unconvincing. As a graduate with a theater degree I come to the theater with a very critical mind. Once you understand technique, you appreciate it when you see it, but you also recognize where things lack with more precision (I’ve had many a critiques of my own works at BYU). It´s a double-edged sword of sorts. For example, the grandfather had many, many lines throughout the play, while the grandson kept saying he was leaving and that his grandfather should be quiet. I thought to myself, then go! If all you care about is leaving, which is what I’m getting each time you talk, then just leave behind your grandfather, like you´ve been saying! But he didn’t, until the end. I would have liked to see dialogue between the two instead of just the grandfather speaking the majority of the time. I think I focused a lot on this dialogue for the simple fact that because the lighting was so dark, the only thing I could really focus on was the dialogue. I would have liked to hear more compelling counter-arguments from the grandson.

Also, I didn’t catch at the beginning that the grandfather was really a representation of the inner struggle of the grandson. However, by talking with Dr. Compton, I realized this crucial element. With that in mind the play changed drastically for me. The reason I didn’t see the grandfather as a “thought” was the fact that there were physical elements to his existence on stage: the grandson carried him, pushed him, and they physically tugged at each other. I thought he was simply a very persistent grandfather. I feel this inner struggle is central to appreciating this work. One of my big take-aways here is that if we really try to understand some of the struggles immigrants experience when leaving behind their country and risking everything, we will develop more empathy and appreciation for each one as a person instead of, for example, a “threat” in their host country.

El buen vecino (The good neighbor) written by Juan Mayorga

This was, for me, one of the strongest of the four plays. The plot began with an undocumented immigrant who lives in Spain and who built for himself a comfortable life there. At the beginning he is sitting in a café when his coworker arrives to celebrate. He is very ambiguous about why he is celebrating, but eventually we learn that he found something to hold over him: he found out about his illegal status. With the passing of a new law that gives him a special power over the immigrant (he could denounce him to the police in any moment), he begins a controlling friendship with the caveat that if he ever disagrees to anything he will be reported to the police and then deported. After the previous short work where we see a glimpse into the struggles of immigrants leaving behind family and culture, this play adds to it the wielding of power over immigrants in their host countries, yet another overwhelming element.

What really worked for me here was how convincing this manipulative coworker controlled the situation. For example, on several occasions the immigrant wanted to get up and leave, but there was a threatening demeanor to the coworker that even made me feel uncomfortable, like he was psychopathic, for example. And the “illegal”, his new friend, remained in his chair. However, he reassured his new “friend” that he wouldn’t do anything humillante, but I think we all know it was a façade to the power he knowingly wanted to yield. And at the end, when he forces the immigrant to sing a song, he has been reduced in our eyes to a mere puppet. You couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him under this new dynamic. This person who built a new life in a new country is now forced to confront the fact that others now hold a unique power over him, and are conscientiously exercising that power.

(Un buen vecino)

For me I see a gospel truth here. Yes, there are consequences to our actions. Someone who comes to another country illegally broke a rule. There are consequences. I get that. But no person is perfect, and one action does not define us more fully than all the other aspects or actions of our life. So, when we come across people we know are undocumented, instead of throwing the blame on them for making what must have been a terribly difficult decision (as if we haven´t made terrible decisions ourselves), we should show love and compassion, not force or manipulation.

May I share an example where I saw this manipulation fully at work? While I served in the Long Beach, California mission for the LDS church I saw on several occasions the power business owners used to control their employees (low wages, long hours, etc.) who were undocumented. I think this play brought attention to this terrible present situation, not just a phenomenon in the USA, but in many parts of the world where people flee. And my take-away from this is that compassion should be at the forefront of our thoughts. For me, God is the person who will make everything right and who is the right and just Judge. We are here to love.

 Un día de lluvia (A Rainy Day) written by Alicia Zárate

This play was the other strong play of the evening. The plot revolved around two people caught in the rain, perched on a patio waiting for the rain to stop. As they awkwardly exchange pleasantries they gradually break down walls and express existential worries. By the end Julio renounces his former life and Alejandra finds herself where she belongs. One of the great techniques used in this story was the use of the cigarette, which by its very nature lasts for a short period of time, and thus the people know they can’t talk forever. As both calmed down from the nicotine they opened up and shared deep worries, Alejandra first, and then Julio. The ending for me was a bit problematic because the two decide to make a life-altering decision to leave everything behind after a few minutes of conversation.

(Un día de lluvia)

This last point, for me, was the most problematic because I have a wife and two kids and they are the world to me. To think that after many years of living together that I could just walk away from them because I can’t find myself, to me sounds selfish and disrespectful. It happens, yes. But it’s disrespectful to a wife that works side-by-side and committed years of her life to making a marriage work, as well as to the children that need their parents there, and it’s disrespectful to the institution of marriage, which depends on a commitment, like any other commitment between two parties. To me the scene would have seemed much more realistic had the two exchanged their existential crises and then realized they had to go back to their realities to work out their problems. That would have been more impactful because the reality of the situation would be that they would simply return to it and nothing would be resolved (sounds a lot like what happens in life, unresolved issues). But instead, the scene ended with some hope, fatalistic hope it seemed to me, that by leaving their problems behind they would eventually find themselves (a very romantic proposition). But in the end the acting, the props, the scenery and the dialogue (up until the end) worked together to make one of the more realistic scenes of the evening, and for me, one of the most impactful.

And, if I may leave one last point, in both El buen vecino and Un día de lluvia the place of origin of these immigrants is not divulged. In this way, the plays about exile seem to take on a more universal tone that I feel help the plays touch a larger audience than just Mexicans. As the playbill stated, “You don´t need to go very far to feel exiled” (my own translation).